too, had
turned his head, and he scarcely paused to think of anything which had
no direct interest for himself. He would come in full of fresh little
anxieties, full of the cut of a morning-coat, of the shape of a felt
hat, of the proper size for his visiting-cards. And he talked
incessantly of all the details of his house--the shelves fixed in his
bedroom cupboard to keep linen on, the pegs to be put up in the
entrance hall, the electric bells contrived to prevent illicit
visitors to his lodgings.

It had been settled that on the day when he should take up his abode
there they should make an excursion to Saint Jouin, and return after
dining there, to drink tea in his rooms. Roland wanted to go by water,
but the distance and the uncertainty of reaching it in a sailing-boat
if there should be a head-wind, made them reject his plan, and a break
was hired for the day.

They started by ten to get there to breakfast. The dusty high road lay
across the plain of Normandy, which, by its gentle undulations, dotted
with farms embowered in trees, wears the aspect of an endless park. In
the vehicle, as it jogged on at the slow trot of a pair of heavy
horses, sat the four Rolands, Mme. Rosemilly, and Captain Beausire,
all silent, deafened by the rumble of the wheels, and with their eyes
shut to keep out the clouds of dust.

It was harvest-time. Alternating with the dark hue of clover and the
raw green of beetroot, the yellow corn lighted up the landscape with
gleams of pale gold; the fields looked as if they had drunk in the
sunshine which poured down on them. Here and there the reapers were at
work, and in the plots where the scythe had been put in the men might
be seen see-sawing as they swept the level soil with the broad,
wing-shaped blade.

After a two-hours' drive the break turned off to the left, past a
windmill at work--a melancholy, gray wreck, half rotten and doomed,
the last survivor of its ancient race; then it went into a pretty inn
yard, and drew up at the door of a smart little house, a hostelry
famous in those parts.

The mistress, well known as "La belle Alphonsine," came smiling to the
threshold, and held out her hand to the two ladies who hesitated to
take the high step.

Some strangers were already at breakfast under a tent by a grass plot
shaded by apple trees--Parisians, who had come from Etretat; and from
the house came sounds of voices, laughter, and the clatter of plates
and pans.

They were eati